Hassan: The Story of Hassan of Baghdad and How He Came to Make the Golden Journey to Samarkand Part 26

CALIPH For nothing--for nothing. I make allowance for the purple thread of madness woven in the camel-cloth of your character.

I know your head is affected by a caloric afternoon.

Indeed, I sympathise with the interest you have shown as to the fate of Pervaneh and Rafi, and as a mark of favour I offer you a place among the spectators of their execution.

Ha.s.sAN Ah, no, no!--that I could never bear to see!

CALIPH Moreover, as a special token of my esteem, I will not send you to the execution--I will bring the execution here, and have it held in your honour. You dreamt that your walls were sweating blood.

I will fulfil the prophecy implied and make the dream come true.

Ha.s.sAN I shall never sleep again!

CALIPH (To ATTENDANT) Take my ring; go to the postern gate, intercept the procession of Protracted Death, and bid Masrur bring his prisoners to this pavilion and slay them on the carpet he shall find within the walls.

Ha.s.sAN Master! Master! Is it not enough? I must go back to my trade and the filth of the Bazaar: I must be a poor man again and the fool of poor men. "Look at Ha.s.san," men will say, "he has had his day of greatness: look at that greasy person: he has been clothed in gold: let us therefore go and insult the man who was once the Caliph's friend: let us draw moral lessons from him on the mutability of human affairs."

But I, disregarding their jeers and insolent compa.s.sion, wrapping my body in my cloak and my soul in contemplation, would have remembered my day of pride, this Garden of Great Peace, this Fountain of Charm, this Pavilion of Beat.i.tude: I would have recollected that I once had talked with Poets of the art of poetry, and owned slaves as pretty as their names.

Preserve, preserve for me, O Master of the World, this palmgrove of memory in the desert of my affliction. Defile not this happy place with blood. Let not the trees that heard thee but yesterday call me Friend bow their heads beneath the wind of anguish: let not the threshold which I have crossed blossom out with blood!

Spare me, spare me from hearing that which will haunt me for ever and ever--the moan of that white woman!

CALIPH (To GUARDS) Do not release him till the end. See that he keeps his eyes well opened, and feasts them to the fill.

(Exit CALIPH and train.)

(The song of the MUEZZIN is heard, "La Allah illa Allah," etc.)

Ha.s.sAN The sun has set. Guards, O Guards! (No answer) It is the hour of prayer, do you not pray? I have still a little treasure. (No answer from the GUARDS) Are you dumb? (GUARDS nod) But why are you not deaf?

(GUARDS point to their tongues) Ah--your tongues have been torn out!

(GUARD points to window of the pavilion) What do you point at?... Ah, Yasmin!

YASMIN I have seen and heard behind the lattice. Ha.s.san has fallen from power and favour.

Ha.s.sAN (Crazily) Ah, good, very good, surpa.s.sing good! You are at the window-- I am in the street. This is a reflection of that. As swans go double in a river, so do events come drifting down our lives. Again, again!

Bow down thy head, O burning bright! for one night or the other night Will come the gardener in white, and gathered flowers are dead, Yasmin!

Come now, a sweet lie first, Yasmin: sing a little how you love me.

Show me your beauty limb by limb--then bring, ah, bring your new lover-- mock my moon-touched verses and call me the fool, the old fool, the weary fool I am.

YASMIN I will not yet call Ha.s.san a fool. Ha.s.san has fallen from power, but he need not fall from riches. The Palace Confectioner Ha.s.san, may still become the richest merchant in Bagdad.

Ha.s.sAN Thou harlot, thou harlot, thou harlot!

YASMIN Why art thou angry? In what have I insulted thee?

Ha.s.sAN Oh, if it were thou about to suffer! If it were thou!

YASMIN (Staring across the garden and forgetting Ha.s.sAN) At last, at last!-- the Procession of Protracted Death! I shall see it all!

(A deep red afterglow illumines the back of the garden.

Across the garden towards the door of the pavilion moves in black silhouettes the Procession of Protracted Death, of which the order is this:)

MASRUR, naked, with his scimitar.

Four a.s.sistant torturers in black holding steel implements.

Two men in armour bearing a lighted brazier slung between them on a pole.

Two men bearing a monstrous wheel.

Four men carrying the rack.

A man with a hammer and a whip.

PERVANEH and RAFI, half naked, pulling a cart that bears their coffins: their legs drag great chains.

Behind each of them walks a soldier with uplifted sword.

MASRUR knocks at the door of the Pavilion: the SLAVES open and flee in terror at the sight. The light of the brazier glows through the window. The SOLDIERS who guard PERVANEH and RAFI unhook the chains that chain them to the cart, and placing their hands on the necks of the prisoners push them in. The four SLAVES of the house then appear under the guidance of the man with the whip and lift in the coffins. Lastly, Ha.s.sAN is taken by his two GUARDS and forced to enter. The stage grows absolutely dark, save for the s.h.i.+ning of the light from the windows. In the silence rises the splas.h.i.+ng of the fountain and the whirring and whirling of a wheel.

The sounds blend and grow unendurably insistent, and with them music begins to play softly. A cry of pain is half smothered by the violins.

At last the silver light of the moon floods the garden.

Ha.s.sAN, thrust forth by his GUARDS, appears at the door of the pavilion.

His face is white and haggard: he totters a few steps and finally falls in a faint in the shadow of the fountain. The coffins are brought out, nailed down, and placed in a cart.

(The SOLDIERS pull the cart in place of the prisoners, and what remains of the procession departs in reverse order. MASRUR only has lingered by the door. YASMIN is clutching at his arm.)

YASMIN Masrur--thou dark Masrur.

MASRUR Allah--the woman.

YASMIN How you smell of blood.

MASRUR And you of roses.

YASMIN I laughed to see them writhe--I laughed, I laughed, as I watched behind the curtain. Why did you drink his veins?

MASRUR A vow.

YASMIN Will you not drink mine also?

MASRUR Shall I put my arms around you?

YASMIN Your arms are walls of black and s.h.i.+ning stone.

Your breast is the castle of the night.

MASRUR Little white moth, I will crush you to my heart.

YASMIN (With a sudden cry of terror, struggling from his embrace a moment after) Ah, let me go. Do you hear them?... Do you hear them?...

MASRUR What is there to hear but the noises of the night?

YASMIN (Springing away) The flowers are talking...the garden is alive...

(She falls.)

MASRUR (Stooping the carry her) She loves blood and is frightened of the moon.

She is smooth and white, I will take her home.

(Enter ISHAK searching for Ha.s.sAN.)